Pandora's Scarf
by JenKristo
Summary: There is not one Slender Man, but a society of them. And Slender Len has found it increasingly difficult to fit in. While the rest remain the same, Len struggles to find an outlet for the ever-growing changes within him. When a fellow Slender Man vows never to return to their coven, Len uncovers a secret that could change everything they knew about the origin of Slender Men.
1. Low Life - X Ambassadors

Notes: In 2012 I started a webcomic, 'Slender Len', and discovered that my plot was too long for me to ever draw to completion. After obsessing over this plot for five years, I've decided to put the story into writing. You're not missing anything if you haven't read the comic. It starts fresh here. Also, this story is entirely fictitious.

Pandora's Scarf

2016

A flame ignited in the woods. It grew from nothing and illuminated the clearing, light flickering off the barren tree branches and the last remnants of snow. Shadows drifted out from the trees, encroaching on the light from all directions. The shadows grew into figures with dark suits and pale, featureless faces. A circle grew around the fire, first four and six, and then twenty. When the ring was complete, the fire was circled by more than thirty figures.

The fire leapt as the wind drifted through, carrying their soft voices with it. Whispered greetings passed around the circle.

A crack rang out in the distance, and the group quieted. The first crack was followed by another. It was the sound of hunters braving the December cold, firing off their rifles at a distant animal.

Guns were not a danger to their kind. If a human ever dared to use one against them, it would be the last thing they would ever dare to do. The circle resumed their conversations.

A creature with silver cufflinks tilted its head upward, studying the taller one beside it. "Svender of Gettysburg," it said, muted pleasure in its tone. "You haven't made it to the last few assemblies."

"I apologize," Svender said quietly, looking down at the other. He thought he should say something more, but he could think of nothing.

The wind picked up Svender's scarf, and he tucked the end back into the front of his suit. He'd meant to remove it before arriving. Svender hoped that no one would notice, but he was not so lucky. The other creature's interest turned to the scarf, the end of which it pulled back out of Svender's suit. Tapered white fingers turned the material over with interest.

"Maroon. How unconventional."

That was when Svender noticed more than a few of the closest creatures studying him. It was true, the scarf was the only garment of any color. Everything else was black, white or shades of gray. He deeply regretted having left it on.

The figure with cufflinks added, "It suits you well."

"You're too kind," Svender said. He gently took back the end of his scarf and tucked it deeper into his suit. He was already anxious to leave. He looked around the circle, but did not find who he was looking for.

One of the figures came forward with slow, unsteady steps. It was no more than a skeleton, white skin stretched over feeble bones, and its presence quieted the others. Its spine was bent over, with sharp vertebrae jutting through the back of its suit. Around its neck was an ascot, which it tugged on with a knobby finger.

The creature spoke through its empty, mouthless face. "It has been more than four seasons since our last assembly. Those visiting from the Bayou of New Orleans, I welcome you."

Across the fire, a small figure approached from the woods. It was the same as the others, white faced and clad in a suit, but its height was more comparable to that of a human. Len stood back from the others to avoid drawing attention.

"It's been a while, Len," he heard a voice whisper from the right. He knew that voice.

"Fuck off," Len muttered.

The voice chuckled, followed by another voice on Len's left. "Tsk tsk. You're late."

Two identical creatures closed in from either side. They were the Estes Park Twins, just the pair that Len had wanted to avoid.

"What brings you to us so late, Len of Caledonia?"

"Midnight Mass," Len said, and the twins chuckled over his head.

The elder's hollow voice rose, and all three turned their focus. "The Elder of Bodie has sent word that some of our kind are having relations with their human proxies."

Murmurs swept through the circle.

"Sickening," one twin whispered to the other, his tone laced with amusement.

"Estes Park Twins," the elder called out, and the pair straightened up. "What say you?"

The pair exchanged looks before one of them spoke. "Our apologies, but using proxies for gratification is rather common as of late."

The elder was quiet. Its body seemed to sink further down, vertebrae protruding farther than before. Anger. The assembly waited. "Are you among those?"

"No," the other twin said with confidence. "We have each other."

"Are there any here with a proxy?" There was a long silence before one of the others stepped forward, the figure wearing silver cufflinks. "Ah, Dei of Salem," the elder said. "Tell us."

Dei spoke obediently. "My proxy lures men into the woods."

"Your proxy is enticing, then?" The creature nodded, and the elder asked, "Have they enticed you as well?"

The circle was silent and uncomfortable, onlookers shifting and turning away. "Perhaps."

"Svender of Gettysburg," called the elder. A tall figure beside Dei came forward, and Len noticed the dark red scarf tucked into its suit. "Describe the traits of an effective proxy."

Svender recited their teachings. "An effective proxy is isolated and fearful. Social isolation keeps a human reliant on their keeper. And without fear, a proxy will make demands. Fearless proxies may encourage fearlessness in fellow humans. As fear keeps us fed, fearlessness is our one true downfall."

"And does Dei's human fit the qualifications of an effective proxy?"

"No."

"What should be done?"

Len knew what the elder wanted to hear. They all knew it. He wanted blood. He wanted this one punished for fucking his proxy. Len watched Svender, waiting to hear what the tall creature would say.

"Disengage. Seek a new proxy."

The elder grunted with clear disappointment. "Disengage? Not put an end to?"

"No," Svender said. "To take a human life is to remove potential future generations of fear. It is wasteful."

His answer was surprising to Len, as it probably was for the rest. It was true that most of their kind were not especially bloodthirsty. But if their victims happened to die from the emotional strain of being stalked for months and frightened beyond reason, it wasn't much of a concern. At least, it wasn't for most of them. Len wasn't so sure anymore.

Len was distracted from the spectacle as one of the twins chuckled, speaking in a hushed whisper. "Showing mercy. How audacious!"

"Indeed," said the other.

"Shut up, both of you," Len murmured, trying to listen to the assembly. Of course, this was met with more amusement.

"Speak of audacity!"

And with that, Len felt a bony hand grope his rear. He reached back and swatted it away, only to have the twin catch his wrist. Len tried to pull away, only to have the second twin catch his other wrist. He stood between them, his arms held down on either side. The three of them stood somewhat behind a few others, and so their ongoings went unnoticed. But how long would it last? Len imagined the mortification of being discovered. He tested his restraints, but the twins were holding him firmly.

That's when he felt it, a tentacle sliding along the seam of his suit. It slipped under the suit hem and disappeared beneath his clothing. A second tentacle, from the other twin, slid up the leg of his pants. Len held back a noise.

"Miss us?" one of the twins whispered against the side of his head. Len said nothing.

"He does," the other twin answered for him.

It was a true confirmation, as much as Len wanted to resist. So he let it happen, and he liked it. The first tentacle pressed inside of him, thicker inch by inch as it worked its way deeper. Len was glad now that he was being held on either side, for how dizzy he was feeling. Every kinsman he had ever met was within sight at this very moment, and he was letting himself be defiled.

He felt the small tip of the other tentacle, working its way inside him, fitting in beside the first. Now there were two in him, the tapered tips rubbing, curling and pressing, while the lengths squirmed, trying to fit in more deeply.

It had been so very long since someone had touched him. It was too much, and Len began to come, waves wracking him as he did everything he could to keep quiet and stand still.

"Len of Caledonia?" the elder asked, and Len was overrun by horror. The twins had released his wrists as he was addressed, but he was still coming, their teasing tentacles not letting up at all. Everyone was looking at him.

"Y-yes?"

"I did not fail to notice…"

Len waited, mortified.

"...that you were late today."

It was only then that he realized, no one knew what was happening. Maybe no one could see that he was coming down from a climax as they spoke. He looked around quickly, his gaze catching again on the color of the red scarf. Its wearer's head was tilted a little to the side, but Len told himself that there was no way he could know.

"Uh… yes. I apologize. I was held up."

One of the tentacles inside him flicked a sensitive spot and he flinched, but the elder had already turned away. "Being punctual is expected, as we have the ability to teleport."

Len bowed his head as a few creatures chuckled.

Soon enough it was over. The twins had released him, and the assembly had been concluded. Some of the figures receded alone into the trees while others left in pairs or groups, rehashing what had been covered in the meeting. Others lingered, sharing the state of their home forests and the humans residing around them.

"Would you like to join us again?" one of the twins asked Len. It was clear they weren't finished with him if he was still willing. Len agreed.

He began to follow them into the woods when he felt a presence, and turned to see one of the other creatures standing nearby. It was the one with the scarf. Svender. Len hadn't spoken to him much in the past. He knew the being was well liked among the others. That was, he was well liked when he actually showed up for assemblies.

"Len," said the other, "Could you spare a moment?"

Len was immediately filled with dread. He must have seen what was going on. The twins agreed to wait, and Len followed Svender behind a cluster of trees, where the firelight wasn't so bright. Len looked up at Svender expectantly. Up close, he was rather large. Not just tall, but broad-shouldered. It was unusual.

"What is it?" Len asked impatiently. If he was going to be blackmailed or ridiculed, he'd like to get it over with as soon as possible. But strangely, Svender was looking around with similar discomfort.

"I wanted to give you something. A gift." Svender reached into the inside pocket of his suit, and retrieved a small parcel of crinkled tissue paper.

Len accepted it, touching the parcel with pointed fingertips. This was unheard of. Their kind did not exchange gifts, much less own physical possessions. All that they carried from their shoes to their ties, they had materialized out of nothing. Len momentarily forgot about what had happened around the fire.

"I don't understand. Why would you give me a gift?"

"It's because… I'm not coming to the next meeting." This much Len could expect, with Svender's record. "Nor am I coming to any meetings after that."

Len looked up from the package in shock. "You're going solitary?"

"You could say so."

Len looked at the package. "But I still don't understand. Why would you give me something?"

Svender put his hands into his pockets. "Merry Christmas."

If Len had a mouth, he would have gaped. He watched the other turn and leave, but he couldn't say anything. Their kind were not celebrators. They did not recognize holidays, and they did not exchange material possessions. All that they carried from their shoes to their ties had been materialized out of nothing. And yet, Svender of Gettysburg wore an unheard of _colored_ garment, and passed along gifts in an uncharacteristically human way.

He looked down at the parcel. As he started to open it with tapered fingers, the twins appeared once more.

"What was that?" one of them asked.

Len quickly slipped the unopened parcel into his pocket. "Nothing, just pleasantries."

"Well, come on, then."

"Fine, fine."

Len joined them as they walked into the woods. Behind him he heard the twins speaking to one another.

"See, Brother? I told you he'd come around."

After teleporting half a mile from the assembly clearing, Len felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and one of the twins pushed him against the chest of the other. Sandwiched, Len was undressed by them in moments. He tugged at the suit of the twin in front, who moved his hands away.

"Patience."

The twin nuzzled his empty face against Len's. Len knew they only did that because Len liked it. But he did like it. The twin's empty face began to split open from ear to ear, in a long, jagged smile. Oh, how smug. And then his tongue, long and prehensile, slid out against Len's jaw.

"Open up," the twin from behind said as he came closer, pressing against Len once more. Len could feel that he'd taken off his clothes. "Go on."

Len split open his mouth as the other had, and allowed the tongue entrance. It slid in, against his own tongue, working down into his throat. As human functions were unnecessary, he took the tongue without gagging.

In the meantime the twin behind him had unleashed his tentacles in full. They spread from his back, outward and around Len's waist and thighs. Others drifted in the air, unencumbered by gravity. He felt a tentacle spread him and enter. The twin behind made a pleasured noise.

Len moaned around the tongue in his mouth, causing the twin in front to growl. He pulled his tongue away and stepped back to shrug off his suit.

"Does your proxy fuck you, Len?" the twin asked.

"What?" Len asked, confused and dizzy. "I don't have a proxy."

The twin in front unbuttoned his shirt. Once removed, he unbuckled his belt and slid it off. "Sure you do. That priest, right? You've mentioned him."

"He's not my prox-NGH!"

Another soft tentacle buried itself into him. This one was thicker than the first, and it was about all that he could take. He crumpled forward, helped down by the twin behind, until he knelt on his hands and knees.

The twin in front knelt facing him, now completely bare. The creature's body was bloodless inside, and outside, as pale as the moon. Tight muscle was strung around bones, jutting and angular. They all looked similar in these ways. Len imagined something else. He imagined that the chest was rising and falling, that the air on his face was an unsteady breath.

"Well? Do you let him?"

"No!" Len growled. "Just shut up."

"I bet you wish he would. I bet you want that human cock. You look like the type, even if you aren't giving in." The twin in front rubbed at his length, which was slowly growing hard. Their kind did not usually use them, as tentacles were far more sexually gratifying to stimulate. But the twins had always enjoyed playing with Len, and they were so good at it.

The twin took Len by the back of the head, lowering his mouth down around the other's now erect cock. Without lips, his jagged mouth could not suck, but he wrapped his tongue in a coil around it. He bobbed his head, encouraged by the sound coming from above him.

"How's that?" the twin asked.

Len tried to focus on the question, but he couldn't. It was too good, and the twin was right. He couldn't help imagining that he was pleasuring a human. Not the priest, but someone. Someone he didn't know. The twin growled, thrusting up into Len's mouth.

"He likes it," the twin behind him groaned. "He's tightening up around me."

Len wanted to die from the humiliation, but it was too good. The twin's tentacles fucked him harder and the other's cock pumped into his mouth until Len forgot who he was and where he was. He could only picture a better place for it all, with hands holding him down instead of tentacles.

Len came hard, the twin behind him following suit. The tentacles inside him spasmed, trembling with orgasm. Len reached for the other twin's nearby tentacle, jerking it off beside his head. Pointed ends of the twin's fingers bit into the back of Len's neck as he released, tentacle trembling in Len's fingers.

The twin's dick was already going soft, and he pulled away. The rear twin's tentacles retreated from him suddenly, and he struggled to keep from falling.

"I told you," the twin in rear said. It took a moment for Len to realize he'd been addressing his brother and not Len. "I told you he had a human kink."

The twins chuckled. Hunters' gunfire blasted in the far off distance, but none of them paid any mind to it now.

TBC.


	2. In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier

Chapter Warning for references to past disturbing violence.

Pandora's Scarf 2

2016

Landon's car was entirely alone on the dark road. He was driving thirty over the limit, but he had the high beams on in case of deer. With one hand on the wheel and the other on his phone, he opened an incoming text.

'Sry bout mom kicking u out so early.'

Landon glanced up and down from the road to his phone as he crafted a reply. 'Np. My mom sucks too.'

Before he could hit 'send', his phone began to ring in his hand, displaying an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"For God's sake, Landon, I knew you were ignoring my calls!"

Speak of the devil. "Mom..."

"Yes. I'm calling from the work phone because you weren't answering when I called from mine. I've been trying to reach you. Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back from Christian's house."

"Christian, as in the Christian who's on house arrest?"

"What do you want, Mom?"

"I want you to stop by your grandmother's house on your way home and spend a little time with her."

Landon groaned. "I can't. I'm super tired."

"You're super full of shit is what you are. It's six o'clock and I know you're going to come home and stay up all night. Go to your grandmother's and hang out with her. One hour."

"Why?!" Landon wailed. "Can't I just go over tomorrow?"

"No you can't, because tomorrow will become the next day and so on, and your poor ninety year old grandmother will never see you again. Go now or I'm turning off the wifi for the rest of the month."

"I'll just use your data."

"LANDON! Go to your grandmother's house!"

"FINE!"

Landon hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. He slowed down, turning at the fork in the road. It just so happened that he wasn't more than a mile away from his grandmother's house at the edge of town. Soon he reached it, pulling up the long driveway. All the lights were on, and the car was parked in the driveway. When Landon got out of the car, the wind blew open his hoodie and he zipped it up. The trees rustled in the forest across the lawn, down behind the house. Landon shivered and went inside.

"Gram?" Landon called out in the foyeur. He could hear the sound of HGTV blaring, but no answer. Had she fallen asleep on the couch? He went to the living room to find a rerun of Property Brothers and no grandmother. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a soda, cracking it open and taking a sip. He looked around, checked the guest bathroom before heading upstairs.

"Gram, are you up here?"

He looked in the sewing room, and in her bedroom where the lights were on. But it was empty, as was her upstairs bathroom. Landon went into the bathroom, setting down his drink. She had an array of creams and perfumes on the counter, and a crystal bowl of decorative angel-shaped soaps that had never once been used. Well, all but one, which Landon had used by accident as a child. His grandmother still kept it sitting among the others, a little smoother around the edges.

Landon stared blankly at the mirror. His black hair was growing out, exposing mousy brown roots. At least the infection in his lip piercing had gone away. He touched it, and thought that maybe he should apply peroxide just in case. He opened the mirror cabinet to find no peroxide. Instead he found a mass of medications, men's shaving cream and a straight razor. Weird. Why did Gram have men's shaving products? Landon didn't want to know. His attention drifted to the medications. He looked through them until he found one he recognized. He took out two pills and set them on the counter, crushing them into powder under the crystal soap dish.

Setting aside the dish, he reached into his pocket for his wallet, swearing when he found it empty. No cash. Could he roll up a band-aid? No, that was stupid.

He headed downstairs and found his grandmother's purse where it always sat on the small table in the hall. And she did have money in her wallet, more than he'd expected. He took out a dollar to roll, and then two twenties because they were there.

A noise startled him into dropping the purse, and he stared at the basement door. It was ajar. Hadn't it been shut before? He suddenly imagined it, Gram having fallen down the basement stairs and breaking her hip, knocked unconscious at the bottom. And here he was taking her money.

"Shit," Landon whispered, swinging the basement door open. It was dark. He pulled the string and the light bulb illuminated the staircase. To his relief, there was no Gram lying at the bottom. "Gram? Are you down there?" It seemed absurd that she'd be down there in the dark, but who knew? Maybe she was going senile.

He went downstairs. The basement was very large and very packed. There were stacks of boxes and furniture stacked on top of more furniture. He pulled another string, illuminating the basement in pale light. Shadows danced as the lightbulb swung, and Landon steadied it.

He was fairly certain now that she wasn't in the basement. But he was curious. He'd never been down here before. He walked along a tight trail between boxes and a few old suitcases. He passed a faded dollhouse and a horse rocker. On the back wall was a mirror beside a set of mounted shelves, with boxes and empty jars. Landon narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of something strange between two boxes. It looked like a muslin doll, peeking out at him with a faceless head. Landon reached up and tried to tug it out, but with it came one of the boxes. He jumped back as it fell, the metal lid cracking at the hinges.

Forgetting about the doll, Landon picked up the metal box. The back hinges were badly rusted, and were half-broken from the fall. The front latch was shut with a padlock, which only made him more interested. He held up the box and dropped it on the floor, letting the hinges break completely. Out spilled papers. Newspapers, specifically. Landon was a little disappointed, and pushed them around with his shoe to see if there was anything else. There wasn't.

But before he turned, he noticed a peculiar headline on one of the newspapers. ' _CHILD RESCUED BY VIGILANTE_.' He bent down and picked it up. The light wasn't good in this corner of the room, but it was enough if he squinted. It read:

' _1931: Newcomers would not know of the cheer that could once be found in the small community of Oldtown, Pennsylvania. The community has struggled over the last decade with the continued disappearances of girls under the age of five._

 _All of this has changed, as one of the missing girls was found alive this Tuesday, along with the deceased killer. Gas station attendant, John Beam, says he was alone in the station around 6PM when he heard a knock at the door. Seeing no one through the glass, he went outside to investigate. That was where he found five year old Maybelle Clearwater, sleeping in the bed of his truck.'_

Landon froze. He reread the last sentence three times. Maybelle Clearwater. Maybelle Clearwater, his grandmother? Clearwater was her maiden name, as he remembered. He couldn't believe it. But it was right here. He continued reading.

' _Clearwater was reported missing close to four weeks prior. Police and paramedics arrived on the scene, and found a piece of paper pinned to the back of Clearwater's nightgown. On the paper was a hand-drawn map, which police used to find a house of horrors._

 _Mark Hewitt, local mechanic, owned sixteen acres of land, primarily made up of woods. It was on his land, a mile past his house, that a second house was discovered by police, using the map found on Clearwater's clothes. Police found the house in shambles. In the basement they found the body of Susan Richards, a local girl reported missing five weeks prior. It was reported that she had been tied to a pipe along the wall, and had likely been alive only a day before. Police found a door beneath the carpet to a second level basement, where remains were found of the other twelve missing children from the last ten years. With them was the body of Mark Hewitt, who paramedics reported as having been alive no more than an hour or two prior to discovery. Cause of death is yet to be determined._

 _Maybelle Clearwater was taken to St. Mary's hospital, and has been reunited with her parents. She has been questioned, but is reluctant to give details. She did speak briefly about her rescuer, who she described as, 'a very tall man'._ '

Landon heard something move behind him, like the heel of a shoe against the floor. He looked up, and in the mirror saw a faceless figure in a suit. He jumped out of his skin, dropping the newspaper as he whirled around. But there was no one behind him.

"Svender?" he heard his grandmother's voice call from the top of the stairs. "Svender, is that you down there?"

"Gram!" Landon screamed, making a beeline for the stairs. He accidentally knocked over a stack of boxes, but didn't look back. He bolted up the stairs, coming face to face with his grandmother. She looked at him with wide eyes, her hands gripping her walker.

"Oh, Landon, sweetie, I didn't know you were here. Are you alright?"

Landon laughed, his voice shaky. He closed the basement door and pressed his back against it.

Maybelle Clearwater Jones stood no more than five feet tall, hunched over like a candycane. She wore huge glasses and kept her hair as closely as she could to Betty White's.

"Sweetie, what were you doing in the basement?"

"I… I was looking for you. Gram, who is Svender?"

She bliniked. "Who?"

"You were calling for somebody named Svender."

"I did? When?"

"Just now."

"Really?"

Landon sighed. "Nevermind, Gram. Where have you been?"

"I was out for a walk. I went to the woods."

"At night? In December?" Landon's brows drew together. That's when he noticed just how red her nose and cheeks were.

"I like to go to the woods," she said.

"Well can you let me take you next time?"

"Sure, sure," Maybelle said, waving him off. "Now, how about we have a nice cup of hot cocoa together?"

"Sure," Landon said, studying his grandmother's face. Maybelle did not look like someone who had spent a month tied up in a basement. She smiled at him curiously, and he spoke. "I'll get the water boiling."

Landon hurried past his grandmother, heading for the kitchen. The old woman stayed where she was, watching him go. Once alone, she quietly opened the basement door and peeked down the stairs. She whispered, "Goodnight!"

TBC


End file.
